


Canvas

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: BDSM, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Fluff, No Slash, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Season/Series 04, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-08
Updated: 2004-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian has a bit of an artistic streak, too; spoilers through 401.





	Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

The first thing Brian buys back, once Stockwell is defeated and his income is incoming again, is his famed naked guy painting.

"Why is that so important to you?" Justin laughs. Brian just shrugs and murmurs that it holds "sentimental value", then wraps his lips around a half-full bottle of Jim Beam to avoid having to explain anymore. Justin doesn't pry, either; Brian subtly lets slip a lot of information about himself; it's just a matter of knowing how to listen for it. 

Besides, Justin rationalizes, his lover gets attached to weird things. He supposes it has a lot to do with the fact that all the "normal" things people are supposed to develop emotional ties to - parents, siblings, church groups - have all been sullied for Brian in some way, leaving him to cling curiously to objects like $30 shell bracelets purchased from street vendors in Mexico, blond-haired boys twelve years his junior, and paintings of naked guys.

Brian does and says and thinks lots of things that veer out of the realm of most people's comfort zones. And he wouldn't want him any other way, Justin thinks, smiling to himself as he picks up his sketchbook and begins drawing an impromptu picture of Brian splayed nude across his expensive Italian furniture. 

Sometimes, though, Justin thinks he wouldn't mind if things were just a little different; if, when he jokingly husks to Brian that he could draw a much prettier painting of a certain naked guy to hang in the loft, Brian would have laughed instead of snapping, "no fucking way" and giving Justin the cold shoulder until Justin gave him an apologetic blow-job. Because while Justin supposes that Brian might have a reason to be particularly attached to this painting, he never bothers to clarify, to justify his glorious forays into queening out, and sometimes, Justin hates having to spend so much time reading between the lines.

But at least, Justin thinks, being constantly kept on his toes means that life with Brian will never be boring. The sex that follows Brian's hissy fits still makes Justin see stars, and a couple of weeks later, when they stumble into the loft, buzzed after a long night of partying at Babylon, and Brian picks Justin up and fucks him against the naked guy painting, that's pretty hot, too.

The canvas is scratchy against Justin's bare skin, flushed from the E he's still pretty high on, and also because the heat resonating from Brian's bronzed form as he presses Justin against the wall really encourages slight sweating. Justin's legs, hastily freed of pants and socks and shoes, wrap around Brian's back, ankles crossing lightly; deft fingers - artist's fingers - cling to Brian's shoulders, grasping them possessively and needily at once. Brian returns the favor, hands supporting Justin's sides and lips hotly grazing his neck and jaw and chin. Brian's breath smells like alcohol and spearmint gum, but mostly, it just smells like Brian, and the heat from his mouth sends shivers down Justin's canvas-caressed spine.

"Tell me what you want, Sunshine," Brian half-purrs, half-growls in Justin's ear, running his tongue along the shell. He knows the answer to the question, doesn't need to ask to know exactly what and where promises to get the best rise out of Justin, even if they've never fucked against the naked guy painting before, but Brian likes to make Justin say it anyways. He taught the boy to talk dirty, and it's such a gratifying thing to know that the lesson is well-learned.

"I want you to fuck me into the wall," Justin pants, arching his back as Brian nibbles his collarbone. "And I want it ... to leave marks," he gasps out, and Brian grins ferally and bites into the juncture of creamy skin between Justin's neck and shoulder. 

"You want me to leave a signature on my artwork?" Brian smiles, and Justin doesn't trust himself to verbally communicate how much he wants just that with any comprehensibility, so he grinds his hips against Brian's groin and presses their foreheads together. And by the sound of the condom wrapper ripping - because remembering to grab one before the start of their festivities is almost as natural a move as Brian's cock sliding into Justin's firm, willing ass - Brian seems to understand just fine.

Brian grips the shapely globes of Justin's bubble butt, both to steady his lover and to give himself some leverage as he guides the head of his now sheathed cock along the crack of Justin's ass. Justin readies himself for the tight intrusion, knowing it's going to hurt at first, but secure with the additional knowledge that it will be intermingled with pleasure. The head of Brian's dick presses into Justin's channel, and he bounces a little in Brian's grip, head thrown back and rubbing against the naked guy's left bicep. The canvas scratches his back like worn sandpaper, and Justin knows it's going to leave patterns on his sensitive skin, the way Brian's fingers are going to leave bruises on his hips. The two men cry out together as a second thrust by Brian pushes his cock in to the hilt, and Justin's legs slide sweat-slicked down to Brian's lower back, resting still criss-crossed at the ankles just above his ass.

Brian's hands grip Justin's buttocks, moving his hips in sharp, steady thrusts. Justin's cock is pressed between their lower torsos, leaking on his lover's stomach, and Brian fists it suddenly, bringing Justin up to speed with similarly-timed ministrations. When Justin shoots his load messily in Brian's hand, he smiles as his lover brings the digits up to his lips, tonguing the palm with long strokes. Brian kisses up Justin's neck and throat, mouth nipping lightly at his pulse, then smashing against Justin's own lips. Justin tastes himself on Brian's tongue, and it inflames his senses wildly; he knows this won't be the only time they fuck tonight. 

Brian speeds up his own pace, coming in Justin's ass a few moments later. Their foreheads are pressed together as the condom fills with Brian's jizz; Justin's backside is warm, and his back feels slightly raw from having rubbed against the canvasboard. He's marked, and he loves it.

"So how was it?" Brian quirks after they both catch their breath.

"It was truly a Brian Kinney masterpiece," Justin muses, and they both laugh a bit before Brian helps Justin back to a standing position. "You should have signed your name, though," Justin says softly; he presses a kiss to Brian's mouth and saunters off towards the bedroom for round two.

Brian watches him waltz upstairs, only walking a bit bow-leggedly, to his benefit, then turns back around and studies the now-violated - like so many other things in Brian's loft, by Justin's ass - naked guy painting contemplatively for a long time. It simply smiles slyly at him in response, a Mona Lisa grin if e're there was one, and somehow, it's good enough. 

-*-

It is a few weeks later when Justin finishes a long shift at the diner, only to open the loft door to a very strange sight. 

"Brian," he manages, "why is there a tarp in the middle of the room?" The furniture has been pushed to the sides of the expansive area and covered with plastic sheets. What's more, Brian is standing nude in the very center, wearing only a cheeky smile. Justin's cock throbs in appreciation inside his khakis.

"Brian," he starts again, "what the hell is this?"

"I'm an artist, Sunshine," Brian grins, spreading his arms in a parody of the way he welcomed Justin into his home four years prior. "And you get to be the subject, for once. I'm going to create a fucking masterpiece," he declares with relish. "Emphasis on the 'fucking' part."

"Isn't there always," Justin laughs, thinking that Brian has been taking drama queen lessons from Emmett. However, he tosses his over-shoulder bag down and flexes his muscles, ready to get into character, so to speak. "How do you want me, Mr. Kinney?" he grins, corner of his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth.

"Well, for starters," Brian fusses, brow creasing in mock-anger as he indicates Justin's ensemble, "this will never do. Strip," he commands, and Justin's hands immediately drop to his fly. Brian helps him pull his sweater over his head, and blue eyes meet hazel once Justin's head reappears. There's a softness in Brian's gaze that Justin is used to seeing, now, but it never fails to make his heart thump a little faster, just the same. A slight draft in the loft sends goosebumps up Justin's bare arms, and Brian runs his palms up and down them to warm him up. The close proximity of their naked bodies also has a heating effect, and, as Justin's now half-hard cock gives evidence to, it has other effects, as well.

Brian leans in to nuzzle Justin's cheek once the shivers subside. "Lie down on the tarp," he whispers, breath hot against the shell of his lover's ear, and Justin looks at him curiously but complies. He blinks when Brian pads into the kitchen and returns with a couple of the cloth rags Justin uses when he paints to clean up spills. Brian ties them together, knotting them in the middle, and picks up Justin's wrists, guiding them above his head. "Bondage?" Justin queries as Brian secures his hands snugly. "Kinky."

"I must have a smooth, hard surface to work on," Brian explains, lightly caressing Justin's jawline with his fingertips after testing the bindings. They're nice and tight, and Brian's breath nearly catches at the sight of Justin stretched out before him. "You can't be a taut canvas without being taut, Sunshine," he continues, and Justin laughs. 

"Point taken." He watches as Brian picks up a small plastic bag with the logo of a popular adult novelty shop on Liberty Avenue on it. "Did a little shopping to prepare?" Justin breathes, feeling himself tingle with excitement. 

"You could say that," Brian replies simply, and pulls out three tubes of Ediblez brand body paint, in primary colors. Justin watches, transfixed, as Brian squirts a sizeable dollop of yellow into a small plastic tray, dips his index finger into it, then takes an experimental lick. "Way too much sugar," Brian complains, scrunching up his nose, but it doesn't deter him from re-applying the paint and then stroking Justin's stomach with it. Justin's belly quivers as he tries to stifle a giggle; the paint is wet and cold, which would normally be a deterrent from erections, but the application process clears that potential roadblock with flying colors. 

Carefully, Brian traces a circular pattern on Justin's skin, smiling as Justin bites his lip to ward off any stray giggles. He loves the fact that his lover is ticklish, and has made use of this knowledge on several occasions, including the time Justin called him "Grandpa", resulting in a nearly thirty minute tickle fight. Rather, it consisted of Brian straddling Justin, much like he was doing now, and attacking mercilessly with torturous fingertips until Justin was hard as a rock and begging Brian to just stop and fuck him already. Justin isn't pleading yet, but Brian can be an exceedingly patient man when he allows himself to, and he fully intends to have Justin begging by the time this is over. 

Yellow circle now bold and bright against the paleness of Justin's slightly flushed skin, Brian sets about drawing little squiggles along the outside of it, and finally, Justin realizes what it is. "That's a very pretty sun, Brian," he snorts, squirming as one of the rays is traced along a particularly sensitive patch of skin. Brian opens the red tube next; the colors mix on his already-stained fingers and creates an orange-ish hue which he uses to alternate with the rays already sticking out of the main portion of the drawing. That completed, Brian uses another digit to smear blue on Justin's nipples; eyes, he figures, Brian is giving the fucking sun a pair of fucking eyes, and he wonders why he never realized until now how endearingly dorky his lover really is. 

Brian notices Justin's small smirk and continues rubbing Justin's nipples with the paint until they're hardened nubs; his lover's breath is coming slightly quicker, now, and glancing lower, Brian is satisfied to see that Justin's cock is equally attentive. His hand gravitates downwards, paint-stained fingers wrapping around Justin's dick, coloring his genitalia as well. "Look," he jokes as his fingers fondle and rub against Justin's sac, "blue balls."

"N-never with you," Justin gasps, now panting more than just slightly. Brian's thumb brushes purposefully over his head, and with the drop of pre-come, Justin utters a small whimper. "B-Brian," he moans, bucking up into his lover's hand. "P-please ..."

"Please what, Sunshine?" God, how he loves to hear this kid talk filthy. 

"Please, anything," Justin keens, arching his back and curling his toes subconsciously. "Want ... need you so b-bad ..." And he writhes and groans so prettily that Brian can't help but give in. He surprises Justin, though, by climbing off of him and repositioning himself near the boy's head, stroking himself as Justin meets his cock at eye-level. It, too, is covered in obsequious swirls of paint, and somehow this just makes the whole thing that much hotter. Justin licks his lips in silent compliance to the idea, and it is all that Brian needs. 

He cups Justin's cheek, turning his head and cradling the boy's skull so as to relieve potential strain on his neck, then positions his cock near Justin's luscious mouth. It opens sensuously, lips being licked in a way that's so visually erotic, it almost makes Brian come on the spot, but he manages to hold himself together, even as Justin swirls his tongue over the head. Brian's fingertips caress his cheek, marking Justin's face with red and yellow and blue, as well, but neither of them mind as Justin takes Brian's cock further into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth and swallows, throat rippling around it a few times. 

Brian is nearly there, almost lets himself climax, but pulls away at the last possible moment, extracting his dick from between Justin's lips, rubbing it over the boy's chin as he does so. "N-not ... going to last much longer," he gasps out, placing his finger over the slit as Justin watches him with dilated pupils. "Do you ... want me to ... sign my name, Sunshine?" he pants, and the gleam in his eye tells Justin that they're about to delve into previously unexplored territory, contingent on his permission. 

"Do it," Justin whispers. "Mark me, Brian, make me yours." He watches as Brian hesitates only a moment before stroking himself a few times, positioning his cock over Justin's face. Justin closes his eyes as the stream of come hits his cheek, temple, forehead, chin, and the tip of his nose. Brian has never done something so debauched, so carnal to him before, and Justin doesn't think they'll make this a regular occurance, but at this moment, it just seems right, the perfect addition to a perfect piece of art.

When it stops, he feels Brian smooth large hands over his dampened cheeks, and knows that some of his lover's jizz has even made it into his hair. It makes his own dick even harder if that's even possible, and Justin melts into the searing kiss that Brian presses against his mouth; it tastes like a mixture of too-strong sugar and his own come and that indescribable flavor that is and always will be uniquely Brian, and it makes him achingly hard. 

"Want to ... get off," Justin gasps out as Brian nips his lower lip a couple of times. "Fuck me, Brian," he pleads in between kisses. "Fuck me hard. I want to come so bad." 

"And I want you to come," Brian responds silkily, but it's obvious that he's not quite finished with his art project yet. Carefully tonguing his way down Justin's arched neck, his mouth swirls over the blue nubs on his chest and around the yellow sphere taking up most of Justin's stomach. Talented tongue dips into his navel and Justin lets out a small cry, and then a larger one as Brian cups and rolls his balls again. His lover moves behind him, propping Justin's legs on his shoulders, and Justin weeps with relief as he feels two fingers wiggling in-between his ass cheeks, seeking entrance. Another finger is added before Justin hears the faint rustling of the plastic bag from the porn shop, and smiles at the familiar 'pop' sound of the container of lubricant. It's quickly accompanied by the ripping of a condom wrapper in Brian's teeth, and the rolling noise of the sticky prophylactic onto his lover's dick - certainly not the noises of ecstacy commonly hailed in poetry and song, but just as much a part of the sexual experience, in Justin's opinion.

He's keening and making gutteral animal noises a few minutes later, clenching his teeth to keep himself from screaming in frustration. Brian rubs his sheathed dick teasingly around the circle on Justin's stomach, over his mound of honey-colored pubic hair, and against Justin's own cock, obviously enjoying Justin's conflicted expression and his attempts to bite back moans. 

Brian slides into him a moment later, well-lubricated and hard once more, and Justin murmurs nonsense words when his own cock is taken into Brian's hand and massaged. The pace is fast and hard, just what Justin ordered, and the two men's chests heave in a sort of rhythm of their own as balls fill with come and stomach muscles constrict in response to the thrusting and pounding. Justin clenches his bound hands into fists as he ejaculates, sullying the picture on his stomach with his spunk, and Brian is quick to follow, coming with a loud bellow. His forehead is glazed in sweat, mouth open as if in shock, but Brian's eyes are smiling and Justin beams exhaustedly in response. Brian sets Justin's legs on the floor before collapsing against his side in the aftermath, nuzzling his cheek, and the two men lay satiated and spooning against one another, catching their breaths. 

"What made you think of this?" Justin asks some minutes later as Brian reaches up to untie his hands, wiping at the boy's stomach with the now-unfolded cloth rags. The tarp below them is covered in flecks of (somewhat) edible body paint and come, and even that has lent itself to creating the mood in a way. 

Brian points to the ever-present naked guy, smiling demurely at them from his position on the wall. "When we fucked against it the other day, I was inspired," he explains. 

"That's funny," Justin retorts teasingly. "Because I could have sworn that was just you being horny." 

Brian chuckles. "I actually don't know why we didn't do this sooner," he continues, eyes twinkling mischievously as he helps Justin fold up the tarp to carry it safely to the trash can. "After all, I have you for artistic inspiration all the time," he smirks, and Justin laughs and kisses him squarely on the mouth. Their chests rub together enough to leave a vague imprint of the sun on Brian's own stomach; he considers protesting, but then figures that it's pretty much par for the course, and that it'll wash off in the shower anyways. 

Justin stands and carries the plastic paint tray to the sink to wash it out. 'The Human Canvas', he thinks, is what he'll call his next project. And as he watches Brian stash the tubes of body paint in one of their many toy drawers for another time - because he knows there'll be lots of other times - he's pretty sure he knows exactly what his subject will be. 

"Penny for your thoughts, Sunshine?" Brian queries, noticing Justin's studious expression, but his lover just shakes his head and smiles.

"It's nothing," he assures Brian. "I'm just planning my next masterpiece." 


End file.
